Betrayal and Harmony
by Rose-With-A-Black-Silk-Ribbon
Summary: This story tells Christine and Erik's story beginning with their childhoods and delves into their complicated relationship. It switches perspectives between Erik and Christine with myself writing as Erik and PhantomsMadien writing as Christine. Please read and enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Betrayal and Harmony**

 _ **A/N:**_ _This story is one that switches between the perspectives of Erik and Christine. I, Rose-With-A-Black-Silk-Ribbon, am writing as Erik, and my partner,_ _PhantomsMaiden_ _will be writing as Christine. Since Erik is older, they don't necessarily happen at the same time, at the beginning of each chapter underneath the chapter name there will be the month and year that the chapter takes place in, the city in which in takes place in, as well as the name of whose perspective the chapter is from. At the bottom of each chapter there will be a link to timeline of events that you can refer to and will be updated each time a chapter is posted. You can't figure out anything in advance from it ha! Please enjoy the story and PLEASE review, we will only improve from constructive criticism and a compliment if you like something never hurts!_ _ **A/N**_

 _Chapter 1:The Sound of Music_

 _November 1,1844_

 _Rouen, France_

 _Erik_

Genevieve Bellamy never should have listened to that gypsy. He said the elixir would keep the child healthy, but surely that vial must be the cause of his deformity. Genevieve was heartbroken; her husband hated the very sight of her. She had failed her husband. He wanted an heir, and she gave him this disgraceful monstrosity. Everyone in town would laugh at her, and all the men would be glad they didn't have such as terrible wife. How could she ever show her face again? She would have to hide the child - no one could know about him. Sure there would be rumors, and he would have to go to school at some point but he for now he can remain hidden, it would be the easiest way to handle it. Oh, why did this happen to her?

* * *

Auguste Bellamy was furious. He hated his wife. He'd be the talk of the town. Why did this happen to him? He was a good, honest man, he went to church, he didn't cheat people, so what did he do to deserve this? How could he have a child that looked like that! He was a laughing stock for not having a normal child, oh, what was he to do? No one would want to use his construction company anymore. This whelp was going to cost him his livelihood. How could this happen? He wanted to kill them both and run, but he couldn't do that everyone would suspect him. Maybe it could be fixed surely some doctor could do fix it if he paid them enough money, doctors worked miracles these days.

* * *

The midwife who delivered the child almost fainted at the sight of it. He had no nose, and his face was a mess of mangled skin, the child looked more like a decaying corpse than a newborn. She apologized to the mother and told her that it would probably not live for very long. She would never forget the sight of that child, not if she lived to be a thousand years old.

* * *

 _4 Years Later_

 _Rouen, France_

 _April 1848_

"ERIK! You better not be out of your room again or I'll beat you! I have company coming over, and if I hear a peep out of you, I'll make you wish you'd never been born. I've wished that every day of your miserable existence!"

I was scared of her, terrified she'd beat me. What did I ever do to her to deserve this? Just being born I suppose. She's having company over today. Just another day acting like I don't exist and trying to entertain myself. I'd already read the few books of my father's lying around about construction. They were very factual and quite informative. After reading them, I had a constant stream of ideas in my head, but no way to share them. These places and monuments of beauty and perfection would forever remain a fantasy in my head. Everyone would love them, and maybe it would let them see me as more than a disfigured freak.

As I lay there designing buildings, I heard something. Sounds swirling together, expressing feelings, creating masterpieces, ensnaring my senses. I didn't know what it was, but it was beautiful. I felt possessed. I must know what it was.

I did something I knew I would later regret, but it couldn't be helped; I had to know what I was hearing. I held my breath as I opened the door, praying the hinges would creak. I tiptoed carefully down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky step. I looked into the parlor where the guest were sitting. My mother sat at a bench, playing something that I once heard her call a piano. She stopped playing, and the guests clapped their hands together. I couldn't imagine why they would do that. There are still so many things I didn't understand about interacting with people. When she turned around, she saw me hiding on the steps and sent me a look of sheer venomous hatred. I was scared and frozen in place. After a second I came to my senses and ran back to my room.

After her guests left, my mother came up to my room. "They could have seen you, I told you not to ever leave this room ! How dare you disobey me, I'll make you regret this, you miserable brat. You won't leave this room for a week, and I'm locking the door to make sure you stay where you belong, and don't expect any food either!"

After she left, I cried myself to sleep. How could I rest not knowing what those sound was? It was so pure and beautiful, I had never possessed anything of beauty before, but I deeply appreciated beauty, and that sound was the most sound beautiful I had ever heard. As that week of being locked in my room passed, I replayed the sound in my head it consumed my thoughts and haunted me. When my mother at last unlocked the door, I immediately asked her what the sound was. She scoffed at my ignorance but informed me none the less. "I was just playing piano to entertain my guests. Haven't you heard music before?"

"Mother, please teach me piano. I promise, I'll be good from now on, just please teach me."

She laughed in my face, " No freak such as you should ever have the privilege to learn something like playing music. You'd corrupt it just like everything else you take part in."

I thought of nothing else but learning to play for many more days. Then I had a very unexpected stroke of good luck: my mother's sister was very ill and she had to travel to Rochelle to take care of her. My father was often gone all day trying to save his failing business. The circumstances gave me the perfect opportunity to teach myself piano. Once she left, I went downstairs and sat in front of the piano. I was terrified. I'd dreamed about this moment for so long and now it was right in front of me. I tapped a white button and a sound filled the room. I saw lots of pages with strange writing propped against the piano, but I couldn't understand them. I then began pressing different black and white buttons and experimenting with different combinations. Each sounded completely distinct and expressed different feelings. Playing piano was the best thing I'd ever done. There were infinite possibilities, and I created pieces that showed my despair and longing for a friend. They expressed my hurting and my need for comfort and everything I couldn't put into words. They also had hope and joy and showed how exhilarating music was for me. I played almost non-stop till my father returned and played everyday during the week my mother was gone. When she returned, I never got the chance to play, but I had all the music in my head. It helped me keep going and know that, even after everything I'd been through, there was hope in the world.

 _ **A/N**_ _Please review I'd love to hear what you think! If you have any questions just put it in a review or PM and I'll get back to you ASAP. I hoped you enjoyed this first chapter!_ _ **A/N**_

 _Timeline Link_

 _This site actually won't let me post the link but if you really want it PM and I can send it._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you so much to everyone who read Chapter One of our story! As previously mentioned, this story is being written by both_ _Rose-With-A-Black-Silk-Ribbon_ _and me (PhantomsMaiden). Feel free to PM either one of us with any questions! Please review and follow! Thanks, guys!_ ** _A/N_**

 _Chapter 2: The Angels of Music and Death_

 _March 20_ _th_ _, 1863_

 _Uppsala, Sweden_

 _Christine_

Gustave and Clarice Daaé were convinced that they'd been gifted an angel. Their little Christine was perfect – small golden curls atop her porcelain face, rose petal lips pouting serenely, and wide, ocean blue eyes peering up at them, framed in thick, black lashes. Never had they seen such a beautiful child, nor one so calm. She hardly cried, and when she did, the sound was like sweet music, her voice creating a song so lovely, it was almost unbearable. What had they done to deserve such a child? A child who, in her short existence, had already inspired Gustave's greatest composition. A child who had captured her mother's heart so completely, Clarice could not bear to part with her for even a second. This child, Gustave and Clarice knew, would inspire many, for she was living proof of heaven.

* * *

 _6 Years Later_

 _June 1869_

 _Uppsala, Sweden_

"Christine… Please pay attention. You did so well in your lessons yesterday." Mama smiled in encouragement. "Listen to your Papa, little songbird."

I was trying to listen to Papa; my music lessons were my very favorite part of each day. Papa would play his violin, and I would sing, following Papa's instructions to sound even lovelier than everyone said I already did. Sometimes Mama used to join in, but for the last little while, she had not once opened her mouth to sing with me. I asked Papa why, but he never answered. He just looked really sad and told me that Mama was tired. But Mama was always tired lately. She didn't play with me like she used to, though she sometimes tried, and she spent a lot of time in her bed. I tried to cheer her up by snuggling with her and singing the prettiest songs I knew. They made her smile, but her eyes were never happy anymore. That's why I couldn't focus. I really wanted to, but I was worried about my Mama. I didn't want Death to take her, as it had my friend Agneta's Mama. Who was this awful 'Death' that took Mamas and Papas away forever? Why was he so hateful? Agneta told me that she forgave him for taking her Mama because he sent her to heaven, but I still thought he sounded like a very bad man indeed. I didn't want him to take my Mama anywhere, not even heaven. She had to stay right here, with Papa and me.

"Will you sing with me?" I asked her softly, as I often did. "Please, Mama?"

Her sad blue eyes looked up at Papa and she frowned. "Not today, my darling." As was her regular reply.

It frightened me when she said 'no'. All my life, music had been the most important thing. According to Mama and Papa, I was singing before I could even speak. Papa told me that that was because music could still speak where words could not. His voice was his violin, and I heard how it had cried lately. It used to tell happy tales that made me laugh and dance, but the stories it told now were sad. And Mama's voice had fallen utterly silent. She had not truly spoken in weeks. Why would she silence the most pure and lovely sound in the whole wide world? People we knew spoke of my voice, but I only hoped I would sound like Mama one day. She sounded like an angel.

I folded my arms across my chest and stood by the tattered blue chair Mama sat in. "Then I don't want to sing."

Papa's kind eyes narrowed. "You don't want to sing?"

"No."

Mama reached down to ruffle my long, golden hair. "Don't be silly, Christine. Of course you do, little one."

I shook my head. "No. I don't want to sing unless you sing with me, Mama."

She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand along her pale brow. She looked so weak… Agneta said Death liked to prey on the weak. If Death tried to come for Mama, I would… I would hit him.

"Your Mama is tired, Christine," Papa said gently.

He was worried, too. He and Mama often spoke in sad whispers when they thought I was sleeping or simply couldn't hear them. I'd even heard Papa crying once, and my Papa never cried. He and Mama were always so happy because they loved each other and they loved me. We didn't have much money, and we lived in a little, broken house, but we had each other, and I never wanted anything else. Well, I wanted my kitty as well, but I loved Mama much more than I could ever love Melody. Mama always told me that it was better to be rich with love than gold, and I was rich because I had her and Papa. Everything I'd ever wanted that they would give me, they did, including Melody. We could hardly afford to feed my little, white kitty, but I had wanted her so desperately, Papa brought her home anyway.

"Then I'm tired, too." I pouted, getting up and quickly marching over to my small bed in the corner of the room where Melody slept peacefully. She looked up lazily when I sat beside her, her crystal blue eyes – so much like my own – opening just long enough to see that it was I who settled beside her.

Mama and Papa always told me I was stubborn. I wasn't really sure what that meant, but whatever it was, my stubbornness kept them away in times like this. They stayed on the other side of our little home, glancing over at me and murmuring to each other. I wanted to know what they were saying, but I wasn't going to go back to them to ask. They would have to come to me.

The next few days went much that very same way. If Mama would not sing (and she didn't), neither would I. She looked more and more feeble each day until today, when she would not rise from her bed.

Papa sat beside her, holding her pale hand tightly, tears on his face. When I woke and saw him, I rushed over to Mama and placed my little hand on her cold cheek.

She slowly turned her dull eyes to me.

"Mama?"

She lifted the hand that Papa was not holding to my cheek, her trembling fingers brushing softly. "My little angel…" She breathed. "Promise me that you will sing once more."

She was scaring me. "You will sing with me," I insisted in a small voice. "Won't you sing with me, Mama?"

Blinking thick tears from her eyes, she shook her head. "No, Christine. I have to go be with the other angels now."

"No! You can't go! I want to stay with you!"

"Christine, you have to stay here with your Papa." She beckoned me closer. "Papa needs you."

"I need _you_ , Mama."

I climbed up onto her bed, nestling against her and wrapping my arms around her waist. I buried my tearful face against her chest, listening to the slow beating of her heart.

"Be strong, little one." She pressed her lips to my forehead. "I love you…"

"Please stay, Mama, please!"

But her heart had already stilled.

Death had not been a man or specter, as I had believed he would be. He was far more menacing in that he could creep in without notice and snatch away my Mama without anyone seeing him at all.

He took Mama that day, but I still had Papa, and I still had the music that he and Mama had given me.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**_ _I was really disappointed in the lack of review for the last chapter. I would love to hear everyone who reads this thoughts. So pretty please with a cherry on top write a review! I hope you enjoy it !_ _ **A/N**_

* * *

 _Chapter 3: A Friend at Last_

 _September 6, 1851_

 _Rouen, France_

 _Erik_

My mother was sending me to school for the first time. I had stayed up all night thinking about it, and I was beyond terrified. I was going to have to interact with people. For the six years I've been alive, I've hardly ever left my room. I've never even been to church! I wouldn't know anyone. Everyone would tease me about the mask; my mother hated how I looked, and she made sure I knew it. Surely everyone else would do the same. I would have to accept it; besides it was better than them seeing my face, and nothing could be worse than that.

I looked into a mirror once, I never looked into one again. It was the most horrible thing I'd ever seen. I asked my mother for something to cover my face with. She gladly gave me a scrap of white fabric which I fashioned into a mask. After years of hearing how she hated me I finally understood why. Now she wouldn't have to see my face ever again.

If my own mother couldn't like me then why would total strangers at school like me? All these thoughts plagued me as I lay there attempting to sleep. I watched the sun ride on that dreaded day. My mother gave me a slice of toast and some clean clothes, then she told me to walk to school.

As I walked down the dusty path to school, all those dreadful thoughts returned. I walked up to the school house, it was a small white building with twelve benches facing a desk with a blackboard behind it. I was the first student to arrive, but there was a lady sitting at the big desk.

She smiled at me, " Hello, I'm Ms. Brightman, the new teacher. What's your name ?"

"Erik Bellamy," I stuttered for I was startled by her kindness. Perhaps school wouldn't be as bad as I had imagined it would be. I went ahead and took a seat on the first bench and was curious how this day would go. Other kids started arriving, and I heard many snickers about my mask. Oh well, that was to be expected it could be much worse. Just as the teacher was about to shut the door, a boy who looked to be around eleven stumbled in. He quickly sat down next to me since it was the only open seat, no one would sit next to me by choice, and profusely apologized to the teacher for almost being late. The teacher told him it wasn't a big deal as long as he didn't make a habit of it and then she introduced herself to the class.

"Hello class. I'm Ms. Brightman, the new school teacher. I'm so excited to meet you all and to teach such bright young children! Today I'm going to start with grade one since they are all new to school. Grade two through five, will you please come and get your assigned books and begin reading the first lesson? I'll come around later and discuss your lesson with you."

There were about thirty students in the school and almost a third of them were in my grade. Grades one and two focused on the basics of reading, writing, and simple math; most children quit school by the time they reached grade three and left to go learn a trade. My grade was primarily girls with the one exception being myself. Ms. Brightman came up to us and made us all introduce ourselves before we began our lesson.

"I'm so happy to be the first to teach and mold your minds! Why don't we all introduce ourselves before we begin ?"

I learned that the eight girls names were Amelie, Liliane, Celeste, Jeanelle, Doreen, Elinor ,Delphine, and Nicolette. I was the only boy. She then proceeded to teach us the alphabet which I already knew. I'd been reading for as long as I could remember, although I have no idea how I learned. She then passed around a small book and asked each child to read a sentence. It was painful to watch them stumble through. When it was finally my turn to read, it was childishly simple. Ms. Brightman was very impressed and asked me how I learned to read so well. I told her I didn't know, I'd been reading for as long as I could remember. She then gave me a history book and told me to read it while she resumed working with the girls.

I read the book very quickly, and it was extremely interesting. It talked about the history of France and the various monarchs, Napoleon and the changes that led us to a Republic, although soon after I read this Emperor Napoleon returned. It talked about the ideas of freedom and discussed our oppression by monarchs it also explained the Reformation and how France became a Protestant nation.

Ms. Brightman held me back after everyone else was dismissed for the day. She evaluated what I knew and decided to place me in grade three since I knew all the material in grades one and two. She wrote a note to my mother about how intelligent I was and how I had a bright future ahead of me. She also suggested my mother start saving to send me to a university. When I walked out of the school, a man who I heard Ms. brightman call Mr. Webber was there to escort her to supper.

When I showed my mother the note from Ms. Brightman, she was furious.

"How dare that snip of a girl think that you could amount to anything! You are worthless, and why would I save money to send you to a university - you'd waste it! You're so stupid and lazy. How could she call you intelligent? I bet she'd find a way to get the money for herself and sent this to every parent. Well, I'm not falling for it. That's for sure."

I was crushed. I was so hoping I could learn more. I want to know everything. How is it possible for things to fly, could people fly? How do carriages work, was there a way to make them go faster? Why do people fight? Why do people get sick and die? How does music work, and why is it so beautiful? Why does my mother hate me and make me feel so terrible? Why is my face so terrible, and why can no one stand it? Will I ever find anyone that likes me? I had all these questions and a million more that I might never know the answer to, but if I kept trying to learn all I could, maybe I'd find out.

I went back to school the next day. I was no longer nervous but excited. The same boy sat by me today. I learned that his name was Daniel, and he was in grade three like me. We had to share books, and he helped me on the equations we worked. It was exhilarating, learning so much about the world and the math we covered is helping me understand my Dad's construction books better. Maybe some day soon I can help my Father design buildings. Daniel is amazing. He's so smart and nice. He said he'd take me to the library tomorrow after school to find some books about the French Revolution for Ms. Brightman wanted us to write a speech about it and share it with the class. I was so excited! Daniel loved music and has a piano. I told him how lucky he was, and he offered to let me come over and teach me to play it! It was the best day ever; I met someone who is really nice to me and I was going to get piano lessons. I felt like I had died and gone to Heaven.

* * *

 _September 7, 1851_

 _Rouen, France_

 _Daniel Ancel_

Dear Diary, I met a boy at school today - his name is Erik. He's only seven, but he's very smart and sees the world with such curiosity and wonderment. He seems to be completely starved of any kind of affection, which is why I tried to be nice to him. I really enjoyed talking him for he is much more mature than most kids his age.

I invited him to come over and learn piano. When I said that, his hazel eyes lit up like the sun. I've never met anyone who was so passionate about music, especially one who knows almost nothing about it. He's a little weird and he has a mask, but I decided not to ask about it. I figured if he ever wants to talk about it, he will. He's clearly been through a lot, and I hope I can help him.

I'm kind of an outcast myself since I'm Jewish, but Erik didn't care; all the other boys make fun of me, so it's nice for me to have a friend, too. I thought I'd hate it here but it hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. I can't wait for Erik to met my Mom on Saturday. She's so nice to everyone, and I think that meeting someone like that would be good for Erik, it certainly can't hurt. I'll tell you about it on Sunday. Goodnight, Diary.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4:_ _The Golden Woman_

 _August, 1870_

 _Paris, France_

 _Christine_

I didn't like her, the excitable, golden woman called 'Madame Valérius'. _She_ wasn't golden, of course, but she was clad in it from head to foot, her gown, her hat, and even her gloves appeared to be made of gold. She and her husband were very clearly wealthy, not that that bothered me. Papa said not to be too hard on wealthy people despite their many faults. I'd never disliked anyone for being wealthy.

No, it was not her money that bothered me. It was the way she was frequently pinching my cheeks, or tapping my nose, or lifting me up to her in uncomfortably tight embraces. Even for my age, I was little, and I had no hope of my feet reaching the ground once she was determined to hug me. I knew she was trying to be nice and that she was very fond of me, but _I_ was _not_ fond of being treated like the little doll everyone I met compared me to.

It didn't help that I didn't understand a word the woman spoke.

After Papa and I began traveling with fairs so that he could play violin and I could sing, Madame Valérius' husband, Professor Valérius, found us. He said he was surprised that someone my age already had such control and such a beautiful voice, and he offered to provide a proper musical education for me. Papa readily agreed, and I saw the pride in his eyes even then. That night, he had told me that I would accomplish all he'd ever wanted for me. I would sing upon a vast stage and entrance many. Then he told me the tale of an Angel of Music.

I'd listened with wide, eager eyes and clung to his every word. All my life, Papa had been telling me wonderful stories, but this one was different. The tale of little Lotte and her Angel of Music made me feel more than any of the others had.

"Will I ever meet the Angel of Music, Papa?" I'd asked him eagerly, practically bouncing up and down in my enthusiasm.

Papa laughed, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Perhaps you will one day, Christine."

Oh, I desperately hoped I would! The idea of meeting an angel at all was exciting, but an angel whose sole purpose was to bring beautiful music to the world? I couldn't imagine an angel closer to heaven. Music was the greatest gift humans had been given other than love – that's what Papa always said. If I had the Angel of Music, I could really do all that Papa wanted me to do.

The next day, Professor Valérius brought us into his lovely carriage – which I liked because it was bright purple – and we set off for Gothenburg.

We didn't stay in Gothenburg very long. Professor Valérius wanted to return to his wife. He told me I'd like her, and he'd even said she could be like a second mama to me. I hadn't quite known how to feel when he'd said so; I liked the idea of having another woman to look up to, but I didn't imagine that anyone could ever replace my mama. She was the most beautiful and kind lady in the whole, wide world. There would never be anyone else who was just like her.

And _this_ woman was definitely not like her.

She spoke no Swedish, and I spoke no French, so though we spent much time together, we both said very little. She sometimes tried to speak to me, lifting items and stating the names of them. I'd learn the words for 'cat' since I almost always had Melody in my arms, and I'd learned how to say 'father', though I never did. She taught me a few other words – angel, music, friend – but I still didn't understand most of what she said to me.

I had no reason not to like her; in fact, I was going against my very nature by not, but I couldn't shake the feeling that she was trying to replace Mama, and especially when Papa was gone and Madame Valérius was left in charge of me. She would try to do my hair, and she tried to help me dress, and she would even sing to me when I went to bed, though she wasn't very good at it. She was good to me, and she never grew cross, even when I deserved it, but I didn't want her. I wanted Papa.

I was sitting on the floor of my new bedroom, playing with Melody, when Papa walked in. A loud shriek came from me as I launched myself into his arms, peppering his face with little kisses. I'd missed him so terribly, as I always did when he was away.

"Papa!" I cried in delight. "I'm so happy to see you!"

He chuckled. "And I you, my little one. Have you been good for Madame Valérius?"

I blushed, shrugging in non-committal fashion. I'd learned that, in such situations, it was best to change the subject. "I've missed you, Papa. And I've missed hearing your stories! Will you please, _please_ tell me the one of the Angel of Music?"

"You've heard that one a hundred times, Christine. Wouldn't you rather hear a new one?"

I shook my golden head, grinning. I didn't care how many times I'd heard the story of the Angel of Music. It was my favorite. I liked the way Papa's voice sounded when he told it to me. I liked the words he used. I _loved_ the story, and I was still picking up on little details I'd missed before. My favorite part was that I could imagine it, the strong, heavenly voice, and how wise and kind the Angel of Music was. Each time I heard his story, I yearned to meet him more and more.

"Hmm. Perhaps I will tell you… once you tell me what you have been doing in my absence."

I released a heavy sigh. Papa was no fool. He knew I wasn't particularly fond of Madame Valérius, and he knew that I was trying very deliberately not to be. He'd scolded me about it many times, though not very harshly, and pleaded with me to try. He'd often asked why I didn't like her, but I never told him. I didn't want to make him sad by reminding him of Mama. I knew he missed her just as much as I did, and I didn't want him to be upset.

"I've been practicing my singing. Professor Valérius has found me a good teacher. And I've been playing with Melody." I gestured to my snowy cat. "Madame Valérius tried to teach me to draw. I am not very good at it though, so I gave up."

"It that the real reason you gave up, Christine?"

When Papa was serious, he got this look in his eyes that could lure the truth from anyone. His eyebrows would pull together, and he would purse his lips, his expression not quite a glare, but definitely heading in that direction.

I sighed again. "No. Papa, she is nice enough, I just… She's not Mama, and she is trying to be. I feel like she's trying to erase Mama from my mind."

"Oh, Christine." He carried me over to my bed, sitting down and settling me upon his lap. "No one can ever take your mama from you. Madame Valérius is not trying to. She loves you though, Christine. She is trying to be your friend. Please try to accept her. She is your guardian now. If anything happens to me, she will be your caretaker."

My eyes went wide in alarm. "What is going to happen to you, Papa?"

"Nothing. Nothing will happen to me, little one." His arms tightened. "Don't you worry."

Assured by his simple words, I leaned back against him. I guessed, if he really wanted me to, I could try to be Madame Valérius' friend.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**_ _In this chapter there are some conflicts mentioned that are not necessarily historically accurate but they need to be this way in order for future events in the story to be possible. I apologize if this bothers anyone but that's the way it has to be. I just wanted to say this so no one messaged me about it not being historically accurate. Also as of right now this story has switched perspectives every chapters but Erik still has a lot of things that happen before he gets to the Opera House where as Christine does not therefore the next couple chapters will be Erik. I hope to get a lot of writing done because this time next week I will be on Fall Break ! However I won't have computer access, so I can only get on this site via my phone and I don't want to type a chapter on my phone but I can still read any lovley reviews or PM's!. I apologize for the long author's note. I'll make up for it with a nice long chapter on hopefully the 8th or 9th. Please enjoy the story and pretty please leave a review!_ _ **A/N**_

* * *

 _Chapter 5: Bass and Treble_

 _September 9, 1851_

 _Rouen, France_

 _Erik_

I could barely sleep last night. I was so excited, Daniel invited me to visit his house today! Yesterday he took me to the library to find books on the French Revolution. It was amazing! I have never seen a place with so many books, they had books on everything! We looked around and found numerous books on the French Revolution. I read them last night, since I couldn't sleep and started to write my speech. I had never heard of the French Revolution before, but it was very interesting. The people rose up and fought against an oppressive government to earn the rights to lead themselves and do things it the best interests of the people. It was rather violent and failed because they ended up with a king again, King Louis 16th, but the ideas behind it were fascinating.

I was terrified when I asked my mother if I could go to Daniel's. She gladly agreed, saying she'd love to enjoy a day without me around to ruin it, her only condition was that I had to be back before dark. He lived about a quarter of a mile away from my house since we both lived on the outskirts of town. I walked quickly, practically skipping with joy! It was such a perfect day, the sun was shining and the sky was the most beautiful shade of blue. When I arrived, I found a small quaint cottage. Daniel was outside, weeding their garden. He noticed me walking up the lane and meet me at the gate, then he introduced me to his mother.

She was so nice! She didn't say anything about my mask (I assumed Daniel had warned her). She asked me how I was and told me she was so happy Daniel had made a friend. Then she brought out a fresh baked clafoutis ! It was so good, I couldn't believe anyone would go through the trouble of making something special like that for me.

Daniel and I went outside and sat on the grass to talk and enjoy the clafoutis. It was different but it was really nice to have someone confide in me instead of just yelling at me. I felt like a real person, instead of the freak of nature my mother says I am.

He told me about the circumstances that led to his moving to France. Daniel was Jewish, and he lived in Israel, but there was a lot of fighting between the Jews and Muslims because they both wanted possession of the Holy Lands in Israel. It could often be dangerous many Jews led campaigns to fight against the Muslims. Daniel's father was a well known rabbi and was highly respected in the Jewish community and condemned the violence between the two groups. One night, a group of Jews who wanted to annihilate the Muslims decide to attack his father. Daniel and his father were walking home one night and they jumped out of an alley and began to beat his father. Daniel ran to get help. When he came back with help, the men were gone and his father hasn't been seen since. Daniel and his mother were devastated and did all they could to find him. They hired an investigator and offered rewards for any information anyone had but, nothing they did yielded any results.

Daniel's mother had a sister who had converted to Christianity and married a Protestant; they lived in Louviers. She told them about an opening as a seamstress in Rouen, so they moved here. This was about year ago, and Daniel has lived here ever since. Most of the other boys at school disliked Daniel since he was Jewish, he probably wouldn't have even spoken to me if that weren't the case.

He asked me about my family. I didn't really have much to tell, "my father is never home, but my mother almost never leaves the house. She yells at me a lot and calls me a freak. She wishes I had never been born. I stay in my room most of the time rereading my dad's books on architecture and design cities in my head. Now I go to school, and I am learning lots of new things about the world!" Daniel stared at me; he looked to be at loss for words.

Then I remembered that glorious that day I discovered music so I told him about that. He smiled, " I knew you liked music, but I didn't realize you loved it and were starved of it. Maybe I can teach you; I own a piano after all."

I nearly screamed from excitement. I was going to learn to play piano! My dreams were coming true. I followed him into the house, into a small side room, that had a piano and a few chairs. He told me to sit down and asked me if I knew how to read sheet music. I did not so he decided to start by teaching me that.

"All music is written on a series of lines and spaces known as the staff. There are two main clefs bass and treble because most instruments have a limited range and it is easier to read one clef. Piano reads music off of what is called the grand staff which has both bass and treble together. The note C is the dividing point between the clefs. In piano your left hand plans the lower bass clef notes and your right hand plays the higher treble clef notes. Does all this make sense ?"

I nodded. I was dying for him to finish explain so that I could read music.

"Okay, each note corresponds to a certain piano key. All the white keys are different natural note and the black keys are note that are either sharp or flat. A sharp raise a note up half a step and flat lowers the note by half a step. I think that's enough for now, I'll teach you the note names and how they look when written and which key they correspond to." I jumped from my seat, eager to finally play. He taught me all of the notes, which was really easy, but my arms are shorter than his so I trouble reaching some of the keys. Daniel then gave me a piece of music entitled "Silencio" I struggled to play at first and I was very nervous, but after a minute or so, it all came naturally. It was a beautiful piece and it felt so wonderful to make music.

When I looked up, Daniel appeared shocked and his mother was standing next to him. I didn't realize she had been listening. Daniel's mother finally spoke, " That was so beautiful, Erik. Silencio is one of my favorite pieces. I used to play it for Daniel's father and I haven't played or listened to it since he disappeared. You played it much better than I ever did."

Daniel finally found his voice, "That was amazing! You're brilliant, Erik, I can't believe how well you did when I just taught you to read music."

I thanked them for their kind words and was stunned by being called brilliant. They asked me to play some other pieces, and at one point his mother started singing along. She had a lovely voice, and I told her so. She told me that might have been a professional if she would have had training. After being there for what seemed like hardly an hour I noticed the sun was beginning to set and I thanked them for their kindness letting me visit but I had to leave now.

As soon as I was out of sight of the house, I ran all the way home. My mother had told me to be back before dark and would kill me if I wasn't, not because she'd miss me but just because she couldn't stand it if I disobeyed her. When I got home, she was at the door waiting for me. She asked me why I was late, and I profusely apologized and told her how I had gotten caught up in the music when I played their piano. She then began screaming at me for making such a stupid mistake and for having the audacity to play the piano after she told me I was a freak and had no right to learn music and to go against her wishes. I decided not to just stand there and take her anger so I told her how Daniel and his mother said I played beautifully. This was the final straw, she slapped me and sent me to my room without food and told me I would not be going to school on Monday.

As I went up to my room she shouted, " You'll never be allowed to go Daniel's house again! How dare they spoil you like they did, why I have half the mind to go there myself and say something to that woman !"

I went up to my room and began to cry. Daniel was my only friend and because I tried to fight back against my mother I was going to lose him. It was all my fault. I wasn't allowed to go to school on Monday either. What would Ms. Brightman think of me? I wouldn't get to give my speech that I had work so hard on. It wasn't fair, but I should have known better.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So I wasn't intending to post again this week, but I had some free time at school and thought up this chapter. I hope you like it. I still intend to post a nice long chapter after Fall Break, especially if I get some lovely reviews. Please enjoy ! A/N

* * *

Chapter 6: Mistresses and Miracles

September 11, 1851

Rouen, France

Erik

My mother made me skip school yesterday. I begged her to let me go, but she said school was spoiling me, and giving me dangerous ideas. I was crushed; I wanted to spend time with Daniel and see Ms. Brightman. I begged her to let me go, until she threatened to not let me go on Tuesday if I didn't shut up and stop my sniveling.

When I was about to leave for school on Tuesday, my father rushed into the house with another woman. She was young, maybe in her mid twenties, and very pretty with long, dark brown hair and sparkling green eyes. I ran back into my room to avoid being seen and to find out what was happening. Luckily I was able to hear their conversation.

My father yelled, "Genevieve, we need to talk! I'm done with not being able to please you; nothing I ever do is good enough for you. All you do is whine about what everyone thinks of you and how our son ruined our lives. At first, I hated him too because I thought he would ruin my business, but lately I've realized that he's only a child, for goodness' sake. He's my son, and I might never have another son. I know I won't with you anyway. You alienated me from my only child. I missed him growing up, learning to talk, and him taking his first steps, all thanks to you, and I'm not going to take this any longer! It's not his fault his face looks like it does. I know he's been reading my books; he's written notes and drawn sketches in them. Erik created beautiful buildings. Genevieve, he could be a genius, but if I let you have your way, he might be dead and the world would never know his potential! I've been gone a lot because of work, and because I met someone. I was called to design a law firm in Paris when I met her. Genevieve, meet Céleste. She's the most kind woman I've ever met. She's the reason I realized my mistake in abandoning Erik. I've told her all about Erik, and we reached a decision. I've already filed for a divorce from you, all I ask for is Erik . I just need you to sign these papers. Célstete and I intend to adopt Erik; he will be our child, and you'll never have to see him again. You can have the house and I've left you a decent sum; as long as you aren't extravagant, it should last you for the rest of your life."

My mother finally found her voice, I presumed she was in too much shock at first to say anything. " You want me to give you my son! I hate him, that's true, however I refuse to give him to you. You will spoil him! You hate me when I gave you that monstrosity, and I intend to make him pay for what he has done to me. I suppose you're right and it's not his fault that he was born this way. But it wasn't my fault my mother died giving birth to me, yet my father and brothers never forgave me for her death. So why should I forgive him? Why should I let you take him? What has he ever done to deserve this kindness? You'll spoil him by letting him think he has any worth. You know nothing about him since you are never home, and now I know why you were never home - because you're a lying, cheating bastard! Céleste will grow to hate you and rue this day for the rest of her life if she goes with you and the brat. You two will ruin her life just like you ruined mine!"

I could hear my father's smile as he uttered his next words. "That's fine, Genevieve, but I'll make sure the whole town knows you how badly you treated Erik. You'll be disgraced. I'll make sure what you've done followed you wherever you go. I could have you imprisoned even. Did I mention Céleste is the most successful lawyer in Europe ? So I advise you take my offer and sign the papers."

I laughed at my father's cleverness. I couldn't believe he cared so much about me, that he wanted to get to know me! I was going to leave my mother! Then I remembered Daniel. I had only met him a few days ago, but I had the feeling we were destined to be friends. If I went with them, I'd have to leave him.

My mother's indignant shriek interrupted my thoughts. "How dare you blackmail me ! You've given me no choice but to take your offer and sign these bloody papers. Get out of my house and take that miserable brat with you!"

I heard my father smile again, "Thank you, Genevieve, I appreciate your cooperation and wise decision."

My father came to the door of my room. " I'm sorry I abandoned you, Erik. I realized recently that you're my son, and you deserve to be treated better than this. I am not going to lie to you, I did once despise you for not having a perfect face. Céleste has helped me to be a better person and see that there are more important things than appearances. She told me about your gift at piano. She walked by here one day and thought she heard a master musician; I asked your mother about it and she told me it must have been you for you had begged her to teach you. Genevieve told me how she refused but it wouldn't surprise her if you had disobeyed her. Céleste and I have been planning this for a long time, but we finally got all the papers ready this morning. So I apologize, son, and I hope you can forgive me and give me a second chance. I promise I'll be a better father for you."

I felt like I was going to burst with happiness. My father cared about me! Yes, he wasn't perfect, but he was trying. He's giving me a chance when no one except for my teacher, Daniel, and Daniel's mother had before. I ran towards my father and hugged him. "Of course I forgive you father, thank you!"

"Pack your clothes Erik. Céleste has a house in Paris. We will leave in an hour so that we can reach Paris before nightfall. ,I can't wait to show you the city!"

"Father may I say goodbye to my teacher and Daniel? They have been very kind to me, and I'll miss them. "

"Of course you may, Erik. I'm glad you have a friend, and I'm sorry to take you away from him. You don't have to go with me if you want to stay."

"No father, I want to go with you and Celéste; I just need to say goodbye."

And I trudged to school, in shock from everything that had just transpired. I was going to have a real family, one that would love me! I would miss Daniel but I knew I would see him again.

I arrived at the school, and knocked on the door. Ms. Brightman answered it with a cheerful smile, "We missed you yesterday, Erik; Daniel was worried about you. Do you have an explanation for your tardiness?"

"Ms. Brightman, I'm leaving for Paris with my father. I don't think I'll be returning. May I please say goodbye to Daniel?"

"I'm sorry, Erik, Daniel isn't here today. Maybe you should stop by his house."

I took off running. I had no idea why he wasn't at school, but I had to find out. I could only assume the worst. I reached his house and collapsed. The house was burned to the ground. I got up and looked around the ruins searching for some sign of them, praying they were lying somewhere injured. Instead, I found their charred skeletons. I fell back onto the ground, crying. I don't remember much after that; my father showed up and carried me home, we got into a carriage...

When I woke up, it was dark out but the lights of the city were bright. We pulled up to a large house and got out. My father told me it was Céleste's house.

* * *

September 13, 1851

Paris, France

Erik

I woke up. It was light outside. Everything that happened slowly started coming back to me like wonderful but terrible dream.

My father cared about me, I was in Paris with a family that might love me, and I might never have to see my mother again. But Daniel was dead. Daniel and his mother were so kind to me. Someone hateful killed them, and I would probably never know why they were murdered.

I could only assume it was because they were Jewish. Some stupid anti-semitic had killed them for no other reason that because of their religion. I would never see my friend again.

Céleste came up to my room with a tray of eggs, toast, and hot chocolate! I thanked her for the food, but I knew I could never eat that much. I usually just had a slice of toast for dinner and that I was all I ate for the day, but I appreciated the thought.

"Are you alright, Erik? Your father told me about what happened to your friend. I'm really sorry. I know you don't know my, but I would like for you to. Your father has told me all about you; he really loves you, Erik, and feels terrible about abandoning you. He doesn't know how to make it up to you, but would do anything to make up for it if he could. I would love to get to know you, Erik. You seem like a really wonderful boy. I brought you food; you better eat it because you're too skinny. You're welcome to explore the house. This is your room; there is a library and a music room. If you need any help with anything or have a question, there are plenty of servants. I have to go meet a client at the office, but I should be back before lunch and then your father and I will take you around Paris. If that's okay with you ?"

As she talked, a smile kept growing on my face. I got to live here, I had my own great room, there was a library and a music room! "I would love to see Paris I can't wait to see the house as well! Have a great day at work Céleste. I devoured the eggs, and gulped down the hot chocolate, I couldn't wait to explore the house. My room was huge. It had a large bed with the softest sheets and pillows, there was a window with a bench under it that would be a perfect place to read. There was a desk with plenty of paper and pens, I could finally draw my cities, and maybe even write music because Daniel taught me how to read it, he would me so proud of me. Then I remembered he was dead, that I'd never get to share my music with him. I started crying the pain of losing him was just too much for me to cope with. I cried for what felt like hours remembering what little time I spent with him and all the kindness he showed me, he was the only person who's ever wanted to be my friend. Céleste came into my room again, " Erik, are you okay? You haven't left you room - have you been crying? What's wrong ?"

I broke down and told her everything about Daniel. I told her how much he meant to me and everything he had done for me in the albeit brief time I knew him. She held me as I sobbed, comforting me and telling me I would be okay. "I know this is hard on you to lose someone you care about, especially at such a young age. I wish I could help you. It'll heal in time, but Daniel will always have a special place in your heart. What if we go take a drive around Paris and get you some new clothes that fit you ?"

"That sounds nice, Céleste. I'm sorry for being this way. I'm ready to go."

"Don't apologize, Erik; it's okay and I understand what you are going through but Daniel wouldn't have wanted you to waste your life away. It's okay to cry and miss him, but it is also okay to live and enjoy your life. It's not your fault that this happened."

We took a drive around Paris. It was a beautiful city but rather crowded. We drove under the Arc De Triomphe; it was beautiful, the elegance of a structure like that, it was something I could only dream of achieving one day. We went into a fashionable looking shop, I tried on many trousers and coordinating shirts and jackets. I caught a few people staring at my mask, but no one dared say anything since Céleste was a paying customer. Céleste decided which looked best and had them pinned to be tailored. "There, Erik, now you have some clothes that fit you. You looked rather handsome in them."

I knew she was lying; no one would ever compliment my appearance, but maybe with the mask it wasn't that bad. I thanked her for the clothes, and we headed back to the carriage where my father was waiting. When we got back into to the carriage, I asked them where we were heading now.

My father answered, "We have a surprise for you Erik. Céleste and I know how much you love music so we are taking you to see an opera."

"Father, thank you! I can't believe you would do that for me. What is an opera?"

"It's a performance like a play that tells a story solely through music and singing."

"That sounds wonderful father thank you! What opera are we seeing ?"


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7: The Red Scarf_

 _November, 1870_

 _Calais, France_

 _Christine_

For Papa's sake, I was very polite to Madame Valérius, even when I felt she was trying to fill the void my mother had left. I deliberately spent time with her while Papa was away. At first, that was only for the joy of receiving Papa's approval whenever he returned, but eventually, I grew to like the 'golden' woman for different reasons. She _was_ kind to me, and she gave me more than I could ever need. She doted on Melody, and anyone who liked cats was perfectly fine with me. Madame Valérius could never take the place of my mama, but I grew quite fond of her company.

Though she was wealthy and well-educated, Madame Valérius was not too proud to clean some of the rooms in her house, or brush and style my hair in the morning instead of insisting one of her maids do so. I liked when she brushed through my long, golden hair. It seemed to keep getting curlier, and I struggled to brush it on my own now. She was good at it. She always managed to smooth out my wild waves and hold some of them back with large, silky ribbons.

I liked the bows. Papa and Mama had never been able to afford them. I had never minded since I didn't know at the time what I was missing, but ever since Madame Valérius put that first pale pink bow in my hair, I didn't want to go a single day without one.

The bow I wore today was dark blue, like the dress I was wearing. I had wanted to wear a red one, to match the scarf Madame Valérius insisted I wear so I wouldn't 'catch a chill' in the cool, sea air.

The days here were usually much sunnier than today. The sky was grey as opposed to the usual bright, pale blue that Madame Valérius compared to my eyes. The clouds that were gathering above made her anxious that it might rain.

"Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow, Christine. The wind can blow quite fiercely here." She fretted as I raced to the front door.

I didn't want to wait. We had been in Calais nearly a week, and I had not yet been to the sea. I had stared at it through the windows of the Valérius' house here, but each day I'd asked to go, and Madame had insisted that we could go the next day.

I still didn't really know why she had brought me here. It had seemed very sudden, but I was eager to go somewhere I'd never been. Papa told me that was because I had an 'insatiable curiosity', and though I didn't really understand what he meant, I was sure he was right; Papa usually was.

"You keep saying 'tomorrow', but we never go! Please, please!" My fingers curled around the door handle, practically itching with the impatience to wrench the door open and flee into the open space. "I cannot bear to go another day without going."

She chuckled lightly, reaching for her hat on the wall and placing it on her head. "That is a rather dramatic thing to say, Christine. But if you truly feel so strongly…"

I squealed in delight and ran before she could change her mind. She called my name a few times as she started after me, but I didn't want to slow down, no matter how 'unladylike' it was for me to run. I was only seven years old. My folly was usually forgiven.

The sea was huge. Once I reached the pale dirt Papa had told me was called 'sand', I could see the blue water stretching so far, I didn't see where it ended, _if_ it did. It was so wonderful… I had to run closer, laughing gleefully at the squishy feeling the sand created beneath my glossy, black shoes. I wished Papa had come to the sea with me, but he had told me that he was busy, and I didn't want to pull him away from his important Papa stuff. I didn't know what it was, but if Papa said it was important, I believed him.

I ran back and forth along the edge of the water, shrieking when it came alive and tried to touch me. It moved closer, and then it ran away again, and I responded accordingly. I had never seen anything so fascinating in my whole life! Why did the water move like that?

In my fleeing from the water, my bright red scarf came loose, and the wind carried it away. I reached for it, but it had already floated away above the blue waves. Slowly, it danced on the air further and further away.

I covered my face in my hands and started to cry. I liked that scarf. Papa had picked it out with me back in Paris a few days before Madame Valérius and I left for Calais. It reminded me of Papa, and I hated to see it go. He hadn't come with me, and I missed his terribly. The scarf helped me think of him.

Someone gently tapped my shoulder. I brought my hands down from my face and looked up at a boy, probably a few years older than me, holding my scarf out to me. He had a kind smile, and nice, grey eyes. My scarf – and much of his clothing – was dripping water. I gazed at him wonderingly; had he run into the sea to get my scarf for me?

Sniffling slightly, I took the scarf from him. "Thank you."

He smiled wider, even as he shivered. At least his honey hair wasn't wet, nor most of his shirt. "You are very welcome, Mademoiselle."

I blushed. I liked being called Mademoiselle. Most people thought I was too little to deserve such a title, seemingly forgetting that I was now seven years old. I was not too little at all.

"I'm Raoul. What is your name?" The boy asked me.

"I'm Christine Daaé."

His eyes twinkled. "Do you want to come build a castle out of sand with me?"

I gasped. Was that even possible? "Yes!"

I followed him over to a pile of sand, holding my wet scarf down by my side. I had begun to feel that chill Madame Valérius had worried about, and I wished my red scarf was dry, but I was so grateful the boy – Raoul – had saved it for me. He was my hero. He had saved the scarf that reminded me of Papa.

Raoul and I played and built castles of sand until Madame Valérius insisted that it was too cold to remain outside. She said she didn't want me to fall ill and for her to have no one to blame but herself. I took her hand when she came to take me back to the house, but I kept casting glances over my shoulder at my new friend.

I hoped I would see him again.


End file.
